


Mirror Reflected

by Zauzat



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-25
Updated: 2011-07-25
Packaged: 2017-10-23 09:40:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/248894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zauzat/pseuds/Zauzat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Uhura finds her visit to the mirror universe curiously empowering.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mirror Reflected

**Author's Note:**

> So I finally actually watched Mirror Mirror (having already written several MU stories in reboot). I largely knew what to expect with the boys but no one said it had BAMF Uhura! (We’ll ignore the horrible hugging scene with Kirk at the start.) So this is my brief tribute to kick-ass Uhura in TOS.

The aftermath of the mirror universe swap was a difficult time for everyone. Kirk made much of Spock’s integrity and his hopes for change in the future, but otherwise was curiously silent about the whole thing. The glimpse of the man he had the potential to be and of what that man had done had shaken him deeply. McCoy too was badly affected by the sight of that medical bay and Spock was horrified by the forced mindmeld. Spock and McCoy were treating each other curiously gently in the aftermath.

Chekov and Sulu were desperately curious to know what they had been like in the other universe. None of the four who had been swapped had the heart to tell them that they had both been disloyal psychopaths, and they kept avoiding their questions.

Uhura had no one with whom to share her guilty secret, which was that she’d actually rather enjoyed some of it. She’d learnt nothing about her counterpart so was spared that shame. She was proud of herself for dealing with being left alone on the bridge with the psychopaths. The other three had mostly had company, Scotty with McCoy and Kirk with someone he wasn’t talking about but it didn’t exactly read as terrifying. She’d had by far the hardest job in her opinion and she’d handled it with aplomb.

And there was a certain something about being a good girl having a chance to be a bad girl. Those thigh-high boots with the knife tucked into the top had made her feel kick-ass and having her midriff on display had been intimidating at first but then curiously liberating. She was proud of her fitness, and of her figure, and there had been a thrill in showing that off. The snake bracelet around her upper arm, the dangling earrings, the glittering golden sash - all of it had made her feel exotic and dangerous.

She couldn’t stop herself from casting curious glances at Sulu through the course of her shift the next day. The other men among the senior crew were clearly aware of her as a woman. Kirk was always respectful but gave off the air that, should she ever be willing, he’d be there for her in a shot. McCoy was more of a southern gentlemen, appreciative of her beauty while protective of her honor. Although given that curious care between Spock and McCoy she was beginning to wonder if the doctor’s interests didn’t lie somewhere else altogether. Chekov was too respectful to do more that give her the occasional appreciate glance. And Sulu was a closed book to her, always friendly and polite but seemingly immune to her charms.

But now that she was thinking about him - his cool competence at his post, his steady hand under pressure, the grace with which he could maneuver the great bulk of the Enterprise - she found it hard to get him out of her head. He was a remarkably attractive man - not showy like Kirk or smooth like McCoy. Sleek like an otter, she thought, self-contained in his confidence and ability.

That evening, alone in her cabin, sprawled out on her bed, she’d found herself thinking about him in quite unprofessional detail. A Sulu who was not quite of this world but not quite of that either, more assertive that he was here but less dangerous that he’d been there. Those thoughts had mixed in with increasingly personal speculation about exactly how close Spock and McCoy might be and what that would look like. By the time she slipped into sleep she’d had a very enjoyable evening indeed.

Some of that satisfaction lingered through the next morning and when Sulu slipped into the seat beside her in the canteen during their lunch break and begged her to tell him anything about what had happened in the mirror universe, she let loose a little bit of the inner devil that she normally kept decorously hidden.

“You were hitting on me in the middle of the bridge, while on shift.”

“I never!” Sulu sounded horrified.

“Oh yes you did. The minute Kirk and Spock were off the bridge, you oozed over to my post. You sat on my console, right in my face, grabbed me by the chin and said in this sleazy charmer voice: _still no interest, Uhura? I could change your mind!_ ”

“I didn’t! Nyota, I’m so sorry--”

“It wasn’t you, Hikaru. Don’t worry. I’m just telling you. I told you to get back to your post and you said that with the cats away - meaning Spock and Kirk - the mouse could play. I slapped your hand away and then Kirk came in.”

Sulu looked impressed. “You sound amazing, especially as those men seemed really dangerous.”

“They were, you especially. You were security chief, easily the most powerful man aboard after Kirk and Spock and clearly with ambitions to be captain. But that wasn’t the half of it. Later, my orders were to keep your attention off your security board, so you wouldn’t realize what they were doing with the transporter.”

Sulu looked uncomfortable, yet curious. “And you did that.... how?”

Uhura gave him a slow, wicked grin. “How do you think, Hikaru? I drew the dagger I conveniently had in my belt and sauntered down to your post. I lent across the back of your chair, fiddling with the tip of the blade right in front of your face. And what do you think I said to you?”

Her voice was just above a whisper now, shielding their conversation from the rest of the room. Sulu lent forward, licking dry lips, nervous, eager. “What?”

“I said: _you aren’t very persistent, Mr Sulu. The game has rules. You’re ignoring them._ And I smiled at you, oh so sweetly.” She smiled to illustrate her point.

Sulu’s eyes were wide, his attention riveted on her. “And then?”

“I said: _I protest and you come back._ I took the tip of my knife and ran it down the side of your face, just like this.” Wickedly, she lent forward and ran a single fingertip down his cheek. “And then I said: _you didn’t come back_ and tapped your nose with my blade.” She tapped him on the nose with her finger.

Sulu swallowed. “And what did I do?”

“You wrapped your arms around my waist, pulled me virtually into your lap, told me that now I was talking. You started trying to kiss my neck. Behind your back I could see your security board flashing with all Scotty’s activity. I knew I had you then.” Uhura remembered the fierce spike of triumph that had surged through the fear of being so close to her enemy. “I tried to tell you that now wasn’t the time, but you said anytime was a good time. I swear, Mr Sulu, you were ready to do unspeakable things right there in the middle of the bridge, with the crew all watching us.”

Sulu seemed caught between being ashamed and intrigued. “I’m sure I wouldn’t have gone that far.”

“I’m not sure at all. Not given where one of your hands was busy going. At that point I lent back and backhanded you right across the face.” She gave him an evil grin. “You’ve no idea how good that felt!”

“Good for you,” declared Sulu fiercely. “You deserve better than that. No one should get to treat you like that.”

“I lent back against the rail and looked at you with all the sass I could dredge up.” Uhura paused, lent back in her chair and tried to recreate that moment of sultry defiance. “I said to you: _I’m afraid I’ve changed my mind.... again._ ” She started to laugh. “The look on your face! It was priceless.”

Her Sulu’s face was nearly as incredulous as as Mirror Sulu’s had been. “That’s one hell of a risk. What did I do?”

“You rushed me, telling me I took a lot of chances. I pulled my second knife out of my thigh-boot--”

“Your what?” said Sulu faintly.

“Oh, didn’t I say,” said Uhura innocently. “The uniform was a little different over there. I was wearing thigh-high black boots, a very short skirt and a crop top. My entire midriff was bare.”

Sulu’s eyes drifted down past her chest to her stomach. She could see the picture forming in his mind’s eye. “I bet you looked damned good like that.” His eyes widened in horror as he heard what he’d said. “Sorry, sorry! That was inappropriate.”

Uhura lent across the table, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I looked very good indeed, Hikaru. And even better with a knife in each hand pointed at your throat.”

Sulu looked impressed. “I didn’t know you knew how to handle knives.”

She shrugged. “I trained in Eskrima and keep it up in my spare time.”

Sulu seemed astonished. “Do you? You know I practise Kenjutsu?”

She sighed. Of course she knew. The men always dominated the gymnasium with their noisy activities, while the women often trained quietly in a smaller room nearby, valuing the privacy and the lack of attention. She wasn’t surprised he’d never noticed.

Sulu seemed to catch her shift in mood. “I’d love to see you do it sometime. Maybe you could teach me a few things?” he asked hopefully.

She let her streak of mischief swell up again. “Do you know you had a wicked scar, all the way down here.” She lent forward and with a fingernail drew a line from his temple to the side of his chin. “It made you look very devilish. You were quite the pirate.”

“He sounds like one hell of a bastard,” said Sulu, “but you know, I kind of envy him having seen you like that.”

The bell rang that gave the five-minute warning to be back on shift. “Come on Mr Sulu. Time to go.” Uhura stood up.

“Ummm....” Sulu sounded uncomfortable. “I’ll follow along in just a minute.”

It took Uhura a moment to guess just why Sulu didn’t want to stand up from behind the protective covering of the table.

She gave him a slow wicked smile, the sort of smile that said she knew exactly what the problem was and who had caused it. “I’ll see you back on the bridge, then.” She turned elegantly on her heel and sashayed out, in her mind still in thigh-high boots with that knife tucked, cool and dangerous, against her thigh.

\- THE END -


End file.
